


Right On Cue

by Cyberrat, MoMoMomma



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Desperation, Dirty Talk, Dom!Chris, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, M/M, No penetrative sex, Not-actual Sex Toys used as Sex Toys, Peter is totally into it, Seriously Peter is a desperate bastard, Sex Toys, Subspace, Undernegotiated Kink, Voyeurism, but it's not exactly what one would call 'Safe Sane and Consensual', sub!peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been doing it for a while now, playing this game that's not really a game at all. Peter's always pushing the boundaries, finding new things he wants to do. But this time, Chris may have just discovered a kink he never knew he had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. POV Peter - Cyberrat

**Author's Note:**

> Let me take you on a quick journey, children. This fic is [ based on this gifset ](http://prettiestcaptain.tumblr.com/post/74162394580/as-you-can-see-im-still-not-over-this)
> 
>  
> 
> and it's a crazy work between MoMoMomma and myself. It was insanely fun to write, you guys and gals won't even believe it! There'll be two chapters, each from one perspective, depicting the same scene. There'll be filth. So. Much. Filth.

It should probably not surprise Peter that Chris knew so well about his slutty boyfriend. Really – it should not, since he had made it pretty much his life’s goal to ensure Chris was well aware of just how much of a cockslut Peter was.

 

To suspect something and to actually _know_ it on a visceral level, though... that was quite a difference. He could assure himself of that fact when Chris pulled open the door on his side and pulled him out with an unrelenting hand around his bicep when Peter had been kind of stuck to his seat, just sitting there and staring at the flickering sign of the bar. He knew the name – from various ventures in the net where he had been looking for just a place like this.

 

Had Chris actually spied on him? The thought of being forced to lay his dirtiest, darkest secrets open, made him shudder pleasurably.

 

Even though there had been a sharp spike of desire shooting through his body, he was still guarded; after all, he could have read the situation wrong, couldn’t he? He sneered at Chris and shrugged his hand off, tugging on his jacket and brushing invisible lint from the place the hunter had been grabbing.

 

“Watch it, Argent,” he growled. The corner of Chris’ mouth lifted in that sharp little smile that made Peter shudder in a mix of fear and heady anticipation. It did not went unnoticed by those pale eyes – of course not. Argent was like a shark. He practically smelled the vulnerability of his victim and zeroed in on it with terrifying, lust inducing precision.

 

Peter turned away with a low growl and towards the bar but was held back via an arm curling around his waist and pulling him back against the long, hard body of the hunter. It made his ass bump into Chris’ thigh, jostling the thick buttplug he wore. Peter’s eyes fluttered shut as the low burn spread from his sensitive rim through his abdomen.

 

“You know what’s about to happen, whore?” Argent whispered into Peter’s ear and the Beta tampered down on the whimper stuck in his throat. Nevertheless, his head fell back against Chris’ shoulder, exposing his neck around which a tattoo curved sinuously. Chris’ laugh was a dirty, dark promise in his ear, his hand cupping briefly Peter’s heavy crotch.

 

“I knew you were a little cumslut. So desperate for it...” Chris nosed briefly behind Peter’s ear, the hand on the werewolf’s cock tightening to an almost painful degree.

 

Peter’s breath became heavy, his head tilting back just that little bit more – showing his willingness to submit to the hunter’s every whim. After a moment or two, the hand loosened its grip and petted the warm, thick bulge negligently – almost as if it was nothing more than his pet (which, in all honesty, Peter was). Just before he stepped away completely, Chris added almost like an afterthought, “You know your Safewords and your limits. Nothing’s gonna happen that you don’t want to. You know that, right, pup?”

 

Peter’s tongue darted out and over his lips, wetting them. He felt hot all over, starting to sweat already. His heart was beating something fierce and the blood was rushing too hot in his veins. Of course nothing would happen that he did not want. He was a werewolf – the men in the bar ahead had nothing on him.

 

Yet, that was not the point.

 

The point was, he could _trust_ Chris with his well-being which was almost a kink in itself. The thought that the hunter would look out for him – no matter how rough both of them could get – because he was a possessive bastard, made him giddy with excitement. Peter brought his head back forward and watched Chris out the corner of his eyes.

“Yes,” he said, drawing the ‘s’ out until the word was little more than a heated hiss. A heartbeat went by and he added with a certain amount of sarcasm, “Sir.”

 

Chris merely chuckled and patted Peter’s ass – sending little electric waves through his body via the plug stretching him open so deliciously.

 

There were footsteps sounding, approaching the voices pouring out of the bar; and just like that... Peter was alone.

 

* * *

 

 

The bar wasn’t filled to the brim but occupied with a good amount of men talking in a way that made the room rumble with the deep, gravelly voices. The smoke hung in thick clouds around the sparsely placed lamps and burned something fierce in Peter’s sensitive werewolf nose. He would not have changed it for anything. He knew Chris was somewhere in the room – he could still detect the distinct smell of gunpowder, sweat and wolfsbane in the air; it was a threat and a promise just as much as the man himself.

 

Peter had been lurking around one of the two pool tables, watching a listless game until one of the men forfeited and he could get into the game himself. He was nervous. He could feel the eyes on him – covertly watching. Assessing. Wondering. Was it so obvious? Could the men look at him and just _see_ how desperate he was for their attention; how slutty he was willing to be just to feel their eyes on him?

 

The thought made him bite his lower lip and twist his hips forward against the rigid wood of the cue while the other guy chose his next target.

 

Had he imagined it or were the dark eyes of the man flitting towards him for just a second? A spike of arousal lanced through Peter’s body and egged him into shifting his hips once more – unnecessarily overt and obvious (not at all unnecessary in his own opinion). They just... they needed to know it. They needed to _see_ it. What he was. That he was hungry for it. Desperately needy. Peter opened his eyes and – yes. Yes, the other man was indeed watching him; still bend over the pool table but not pretending to take aim anymore. He was just standing there... _watching_ as Peter rocked against the rigid line of the cue propped up in front of him.

 

“Look... there...” the whisper was somewhere behind Peter. He would have not picked it up, had it not been for his sensitive ears. His mouth fell open on a noiseless moan, one hand gliding down to cup his crotch and grind the heel of his hand into the thickening length beneath the coarse material. It hurt because of the zipper digging into his cock, but it was too delicious to simply stop.

 

Peter opened his eyes – when had they fallen shut? – and realized the other man was standing now, leaning on his own cue and watching him unashamedly. Peter’s breath hitched, his cock giving a heavy, involuntary twitch behind the restricting line of his zipper. The dark eyes of the man were appraising; looking him up and down like he was some kind of car on display.

 

It should be shameful – how much he wanted to be admired by those foreign men; but really, it was only that much more of a turn-on. To know they wanted nothing more but his body. That he was simply a slut to be filled. Peter whimpered a little at the thought, hips bucking into his own hand. The murmur from around him distracted him just a second before a flicker from somewhere in the murky darkness drew his already scattered attention towards the bar. Chris’ eyes were strangely luminous in the darkness and drilling relentlessly into him.

There was a faint nod coming and it was like... like... fuck if he could describe it. Like a Master loosening the leash of his dog and letting him run a little more freely. Like a permission to come whispered into his mouth. Like a hand on his dick stroking him, encouraging him. Giving him permission.

 

Peter’s head dropped back and he did not even try anymore to pierce the smoky darkness around the cone of light enveloping the pool table with his eyes. He could hear the clinking of glass when the men around him drank and the rough drags of breath on cigarettes. Nobody reprimanded him for lewd display which was encouragement enough to spread his stance just that little bit and raise the cue, slipping it between his thighs and...

 

“Hnnngh...” His neck was straining, the tattoo curving around the right side probably bulging as he rubbed his crotch on the hard handle. He could not make out what was being said but he knew they were talking about _him_. By now, every last pair of eyes was riveted on him. His instincts were driving him wild – telling him to drop into a crouch and defend himself from the ring of men drawing closer and closer around him, standing just outside his ring of light. He let the adrenalin rush only fuel his movements which were fluid and sinful. Peter writhed against the cue, pressing his forehead against the warmed wood and panting harshly.

 

His fevered eyes looked around, catching glimpses of twinkling glass every now and again. They were still sipping their drinks while they watched a man reducing himself to nothing more but a fucking hole yearning to be filled. Peter twisted his head, clamping his sharp teeth around the cue and whimpering when he rutted all the faster against the cue. He just needed to sink his teeth into _something_. Needed to ground himself so he did not immediately shoot his load and end the delicious display prematurely.

 

“Cockslut.”

 

Had Peter’s ears been pointed, they would have twitched at the gravelly voice of Chris piercing audibly through the murmur enveloping him. There was a stutter in the crowd, a beat or two of absolute silence before the men caught on to Argent’s little game. He was pretty sure the hunter had been counting on just this response: some invisible barrier seemed to have been shattered and deep voices started reaching Peter’s ear, husky with lust and excitement.

 

“Needy slut.”

 

“Look at him. Practically fucking himself on that cue.”

 

“He’d make an amazing cum-bucket.”

 

“Wanna cum on that neck. Rub it into his tattoo.”

 

“Think the pretty boy is gonna bite?”

 

“Looks like it. Probably needs to be gagged.”

 

Peter’s eyes were wide open but unseeing as he curled forward, humping the cue in earnest now, his head still twisted, exposing his tattoo and teeth digging into the polished wood. The surface of the stick was too little to properly rub himself off on, though. Frustrated huffing yips and whimpers spilled out from between his teeth although he tried valiantly to hold them back. His ears rang with the degradation poured over him and his nose tingled with the heavy smell of sex and pheromones in the air. Above all else, though, he was still smelling gunpowder, sweat and wolfsbane. It made him wild – imagining somewhere in the crowd were those fucking silver-blue eyes. Watching him. Assessing him. (Maybe being proud of him?)

 

Peter whined pitifully and clamped his eyes shut.

 

“Drools like a bitch in heat.”

 

“Sounds like one as well.”

 

His knees were shaking with the force with which he ground himself down, trying desperately to not only get pressure on his throbbing, jerking dick, but also jostle the buttplug stuffing him up and giving him not nearly enough pressure to get off on. Shit, all those eyes were on him... watching as he was humping the cue...

 

They desired him. It was plain as day. Though the insults were harsh, they _wanted_ him and they knew they _couldn’t have_ him. Could they see the damp patch on the front of his jeans? Could they see the rigid line of his cock whose head was making a valiant effort of insinuating itself between his abs and the waistband?

 

He wanted them to see. God, how he wanted them to see and know how slutty he wanted to be for them. For _him_.

 

“Enough now. Come – we don’t have all night.”

 

Chris’ voice was cool and suddenly _so near_. Peter whined, rolling his eyes up in order to glance at Argent who had materialized from fucking _nowhere_ and was staring imperiously down on him. By now, Peter’s higher brain-functions had shut down and he was merely a mass of nerves, waiting to react but unable to instigate.

 

Chris’ face seemed to soften just that little bit before he held out his hand, palm up and open.

“Give me the cue,” he demanded. Peter blinked once, twice, trying to understand the command and finally loosening the grip of his teeth (leaving indents on the polished wood) and handing over the wooden length with shivering hands and obvious reluctance. He could not say whether the smile sent his way was cruel or indulgent.

 

“Good pup,” Chris growled, free hand cupping Peter’s stubbly jaw, thumb trailing over his cheekbone. It was an unusually tender gesture and seemed to be blown out of proportions in the safe headspace he had reverted back to. His eyes fluttered shut, a needy whine escaping him as he tilted his head into the caress. He was still aware of their audience but in favour of Chris they had retreated back into near nothingness where Peter was concerned.

 

“Up on the table,” the rough voice urged and... yeah... yeah, why not? There was no reason why he should not be crawling up there on all fours, fingers splayed on the green felt of the pool table and present his ass to one half of the room while the other half could stare at the vulnerable expanse of his neck because fuck if he had any more power to raise his head.

Chris was moving and speaking like they were alone. Like he was the sole connoisseur of the feast laid out before him that was Peter. The werewolf let the words – soothing and degrading all at once – wash over him without really realizing what was being said.

 

All he knew was that his cock was hard and spewing pre-cum and his ass was stretched around the plug and... oh... oh the plug...

 

Peter almost twisted away when capable and familiar hands started opening his jeans. The thought of all those anonymous men seeing his most intimate place was equal parts daunting and exhilarating. A shiver took hold of his body and his arms collapsed until he was leaning on his elbows, forehead pressed against the felt of the desk and shudders running down his spine in irregular bursts. His jeans were open by now, Chris’ fingers caressing his leaking, twitching length – but not tugging the fabric down.

 

It took Peter some time until he realized the rushing and pulsing in his ears was actually the low voice of the hunter and not only the pulsing of his own blood.

 

“You alright?”

 

Somewhere in his mouth had to be the right answer whirring around and...

 

“Yeah...”

 

 Oh great, there it was.

 

“Good pup.”

 

He got another gentle caress of fingers over the damp fabric of his underwear before they vanished and the hunter declared more loudly so their audience could hear, “I’ll leave your cock inside. Won’t have you ruining the fine pool table with your cum, eh, whore?”

Peter whined and arched his back, sticking out his ass and grinding it into the air while lights flickered behind his eyelids. Damn it! At this point he did not care where he shot his load he just needed to...

 

“Get on with it,” he grit out between clenched teeth. Chris laughed at him. Actually _laughed_ at him. He would rip his throat out. Claw the heart out of his chest. He would...

 

The hunter tugged the elastic band of his black underwear down to just beneath the round globes of his ass and pried his cheeks unnecessarily apart so the equally dark base of the plug was opened to the room.

 

The low moans and eager murmurs were almost too much for Peter. He pressed his burning cheek against the felt and gasped for breath, squirming in place and clenching around the thick plug inside him.

 

“Stay still,” Chris commanded, voice low and so rough, there was no sense in wondering whether he was at all affected by what was happening.

 

“Easy for you to say... you’re not the one with a plug the size of... hnngh!” Peter’s snarky reply was cut off by Chris suddenly yanking the plug out, leaving his asshole open and gaping in the smoky air of the room.

“Holy shit... look at that hole. It’s dripping.” Peter whined as he heard the unfamiliar voice but had barely time to really work through it because the plug was suddenly back – being fucked inside his hole, forcing his rim to stretch around the widest part over and over again.

His dick was a constantly leaking ache between his legs, twitching in the soaked fabric and pulsing every time his hole gaped wide open, flashing his pink, vulnerable inside to god-knew-how-many people.

 

The filthy squelching sound of lube being compressed and slid around his ass was loud and humiliating in the sticky air. His fingers curled into the felt, fingernails itching to elongate into claws and rip the fabric open. Peter would probably never know whether Chris had sensed his desire to shift or simply feared he could damage the table with his human fingernails; but there was a sharp slap to his left ass cheek and a low command to, “Behave.”

 

The hand on his ass slid over a little, fingers starting to play with his rim – dipping inside and tugging a little; keeping them there next to the cone shaped plug plunging in and out and only increasing the stretch that little, delicious bit.

 

“Oh... my...gnnhh...” Peter was panting by now, trying to broaden the stance of his knees but feeling his legs restricted by the jeans and underwear around his thighs. He rocked backwards towards the intrusion, listening to the wet squelching and the murmuring around them.

 

“Slut got a fucking amazing ass.”

 

“Has to be such a feast to eat him out.”

 

“Look at his face. Got the perfect mouth to suck cock, I tell ya.”

 

By now he was chanting Chris’ name under his breath, voice getting higher and higher – humiliatingly so. He could not refrain from it, though. He could barely even keep upright and his ass presented, since his body seemed to start to turn to jelly while the dark coil that had wound tighter and tighter throughout the evening was by now singing with anticipation, deliciously close to bursting.

 

For some reason it was not the plug fucking him raw or the talented fingers playing with his rim – but the feel of soft lips and the rough scratch of stubble against the base of his spine, that sent him over the edge at last. Peter absolutely _screamed_ into the room, not caring for anything but the hot ropes of come gushing into his underwear and the fact that he made an absolute mess of it while his asshole spasmed around the intrusion.

 

There was a thick fog in his head afterwards. He barely registered someone – probably Chris – pulling up his underwear and jeans and doing them up properly.

 

He was helped down the table and his arm got slung across strong shoulders he only knew too well in order to hold him up because his wobbly legs could not do the trick. Gunpowder, sweat and wolfsbane enveloped him and though Peter rarely was tamed enough to indulge in post-coital cuddling, he could not refrain from turning that little bit and nuzzling into Chris’ neck because... _fuck_ he smelled amazing and he had actually made a dream come true for Peter and... damn it, where did all those feelings come from all of a sudden?!

 

He was manhandled into the car and Chris slipped into the driver’s seat.

“Chris, I...” Peter started to slur but was interrupted by the hunter’s hand on his leg and the rough scratch of his voice and thank fuck for that because Peter was not at all sure what he would have said right now.

 

“I’m gonna take you home and fuck you until you can’t walk for three days. Looked fucking amazing out there... letting me show you to all those men. Show them what they could not have. Because you’re mine.”

 

Peter moaned deep in his throat and let his head fall backwards. His dick – the traitor – actually made a valiant effort at resurrection at those words.

 

Fuck, Argent would _kill_ him someday.

 

Chris laughed deep and husky as he pulled out onto the street.

 

The fucker knew it, too. Fuck him.


	2. POV Chris - MoMoMomma

If someone had told Chris Argent years ago, back before the world went to hell, that Peter Hale was a slut, he probably wouldn’t have questioned it. Wolves didn’t tend to follow the same rules as humans, from eating to fighting to fucking. It wouldn’t have come as a shock or have been hard to imagine in the slightest that a wolf, especially one that came from such a powerful pack as the Hales, would fuck around.

Finding out he was a _submissive_ slut, however, came as a surprise.

Crossing around the car and tugging the door open, Chris waited a few moments, watching Peter’s face as he stared at the flickering lights of the bar Chris had chosen for this particular experience, before realizing the wolf wasn’t going to get out on his own. He pulled him out with a hard hand wrapped around an equally tense bicep, watching Peter’s face closely.

He was halfway into a headspace already, no doubt titillated by the promise of what lay within the bar. Chris wasn’t stupid, he knew Peter would never willingly give up anything he wasn’t ordered to. So he had followed the wolf, spied on him, until he began to see the pattern in the places Peter would visit, the websites he’d look up. All dark and grungy, filled with people Peter wouldn’t see again in his day to day life, but the kind that were more than open to a little…unscheduled entertainment.

A guarded expression slipped onto Peter’s face the longer he stared at the building and Chris knew what he was thinking. Was this a trick? Was he being taunted?

Chris loosened his grip, expecting what was coming, and not being disappointed in the slightest when Peter roughly shook off his grip, adjusting his clothes around himself. Trying to re-cloak himself in a little bit of power in the face of uncertainty.

“Watch it, Argent.” The words were snarled out into the air between them and brought a sharp smile to Chris’ face as Peter turned and made to stride towards the bar.

Little pup was getting bold in his fear which, while it was adorable, was not acceptable. Not now. Not here when Chris needed his control in case something went sour.

Reaching out, he wrapped one arm around Peter’s waist, jerking him back with enough force he knew it moved the plug inside him. He plastered himself to Peter’s back, moving his thigh so it would brush against that same plug. The memory of hours before, when they’d started preparing to come out tonight, had Chris biting back a groan. Peter had been oddly subdued, none of his usual snark when Chris pulled out the plug from their toybox and told him to put it in.

Which didn’t mean the man hadn’t worn a smarmy smile when he’d strode from his room and bent over the edge of the couch to show Chris he’d obeyed. He hadn’t given into the urge to fuck him then and there, ushering him into the shower to finish getting ready instead, but he’d wanted to. God, how he’d wanted to.

A low growl filtering into the air between them pulled Chris from his thoughts and refocused him on the situation at hand. Peter being out of headspace normally wasn’t a concern, Chris allowing him to slip in and out as he felt comfortable during a scene in the safety of their playroom. But here, where there were uncontrollable variables and things could go south quickly, meant it wasn’t safe. And Chris, as a Dom, was concerned for his submissive’s safety above all else.

Luckily enough for him, Peter was shocking easy to ease back into a headspace when he was turned on, and the minute shudders running through the frame pressed to his meant Peter had passed ‘turned on’ a couple hours ago.

 “You know what’s about to happen, whore?” Chris whispered, letting his voice dip so it grated against his vocal cords, dark and dirty in a way that fit the situation.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Peter instantly submitted, head falling back onto his shoulder with a low moan, exposing the temporary tattoo Peter had insisted upon wearing. Chris slipped a hand around Peter’s body, cupping a hand against the thick cock straining at the front of Peter’s pants. He was already so hard, so desperate for it, and the thought had Chris’ mouth opening once more.

“I knew you were a little cumslut. So desperate for it…” Chris tightened his grip, using more force than he’d ever have dared to use on a human, knowing Peter could take.

Sure enough, the added force had Peter’s head tilting further in submission, baring the expanse of his throat. Chris held his grip for a moment longer, ensuring Peter sagged against him just the slightest bit, before he let go and ran his hand slowly over the bulge a few times. Praise for good deeds, even nonverbal, was one of the most important parts in ensuring the submissive continued to be so.

Before he stepped away a thought occurred to him and he nosed behind Peter’s ear, keeping his voice low.

“You know your safewords and your limits. Nothing’s gonna happen that you don’t want to. You know that, right, pup?”

He stepped away and watched as the words filtered through the haze of submission, Peter licking his lips and bringing his head back up, watching him from the corners of his eyes. A silence stretched between them, long enough Chris was tempted to whack him on the ass for his insubordination—you answered a question a Dom asked you, and you did it quickly, damnit—before Peter’s lips parted once more.

“Yes,” the word was little more than a hiss given the way Peter drew out the syllables, and his eyes narrowed playfully before he tacked on a respectful, “Sir.”

Chris allowed himself a small laugh at Peter’s sass even while he submitted before patting him on the ass, perhaps a little more firmly than he normally would have, grinning at slight tense of Peter’s shoulders, no doubt due to the plug shifting within him. He turned and strode into the bar, something in him prickling at the idea of leaving a sub alone, but knowing Peter had to do this on his own. It would work him up higher if he didn’t know where Chris was, if he couldn’t instantly find him and center himself.

And Chris wanted Peter brushing the ceiling by the time this was over.

 

* * *

 

Chris had taken a spot at the bar, watching everyone carefully. The bar wasn’t overly filled, enough that there was a nice sized audience, but not so much so that Peter show wouldn’t attract everyone’s attention. He took note of everyone, assessing their threat level almost without thinking, and was satisfied when no one triggered any hunter instincts to disarm and take down.

Peter was over by the pool table, like he had been since he’d walked in, waiting patiently for his turn. The air had shifted slightly when he’d come in, like everyone knew he wasn’t just there for drinks, but no one had said anything yet. Peter’s chance to play came soon enough and Chris watched carefully as he moved around the table. The scene would start in earnest soon, and Chris was ready at a moment’s notice to stop everything if it garnered the wrong reaction.

The moment Peter put the cue in front of him, Chris knew the game, so to speak, was on. It was something in Peter’s shoulders and eyes, the way they softened just slightly as he slid further into his headspace. The first grind of his hips against the cue wasn’t overt, something that could be missed if people weren’t paying as close attention as Chris was, but it was still present enough that Chris saw the man playing pool with Peter shift slightly in a twitch out of the ordinary from his usual movements.

Peter next grind was filthy, something so overt it was no longer any guess as to what he was doing, and Chris saw his pool partner’s head come up. The man wasn’t even pretending to play anymore, watching Peter grind against the wood, eyes glazed over in the low light of the bar. Chris still watched the other patrons carefully, taking note of their faces, until he saw Peter’s shoulders twitch in the way they did when he heard something no one else could and his mouth fell open. He ground against the cue harder this time, more obvious than the last, if possible, and his eyes fluttered closed as he swept a hand down to cup his cock beneath the material of his pants.

Chris made a mental note to punish him for that little indulgence later, but it was quickly shoved to the back of his mind as the man near Peter straightened, leaning on his cue and watching with avid interest. Peter’s eyes opened once more, flittering over to the man in question before his hips bucked, whatever he saw in his eyes cranking his arousal just that much higher. Chris shifted out a bit, further away from the line of customers at the bar, and Peter’s bouncing gaze landed on him almost instantly. He let their eyes connect for a long moment, trying to keep his face blank and suffuse his gaze instead with the approval and pride he felt.

Peter seemed to be almost begging for permission and while Chris liked to draw it out normally, this situation was better done quickly with how many variables were still unknown. He let his head dip in a slight nod of permission, and that was it. It was like snapping the leash off a straining dog, or pulling out the one remaining support beam for a structure.

Peter ground against the cue, movements fluid and _filthy_ , quickening with every movement. Chris could visibly see him slipping further and further in subspace, becoming nothing but need and want. By the time Peter rested his head against the cue, all eyes were on him, everyone unsure of what was happening, but enjoying the show nonetheless. Chris’ shoulders stiffened at the sight of Peter gripping the cue between his teeth, but he relaxed when he saw the blunt edge that indicated he still had control.

The movements, though still fluid, were stilted in a way that Chris was familiar with. Peter couldn’t get himself around a particular curve in his arousal, not fully able to slip into subspace, no doubt still wary of the environment. He let a slight smile curve his lips before parting them, pitching his voice a bit higher so more than Peter would hear him. The men here weren’t stupid, they’d catch on soon enough.

“Cockslut.”

Everything stilled for a moment, like the room drew a collective breath and waited to see Peter’s reaction, before everyone saw that Peter moved just a bit easier after the word was uttered. The dynamic shifted then, everyone aware that this was really happening and they wouldn’t be attacked if they joined in, some of them glancing at Chris—almost as if for permission—before the comments started, each one visibly pushing Peter higher and higher.

“Needy slut.”

 

“Look at him. Practically fucking himself on that cue.”

 

“He’d make an amazing cum-bucket.”

 

“Wanna cum on that neck. Rub it into his tattoo.”

 

“Think the pretty boy is gonna bite?”

 

“Looks like it. Probably needs to be gagged.”

 

Peter’s movements practically screamed desperation, hard thrusts of his hips followed by vicious grinds, but Chris knew it wouldn’t be enough. Even with the low murmurs of the people around them, the cue simply wasn’t thick enough for Peter to get any proper stimulation from it. Not enough to orgasm, at least. Chris could almost hear Peter’s aggravated sounds, whined out around the cue still locked between his teeth, and he tried to soften his gaze in response. If Peter looked up, he wanted him to see that Chris was pleased with his actions and his dedication.

“Drools like a bitch in heat.”

 

“Sounds like one as well.”

 

Peter’s eyes slamming shut and the slightest quiver to his movements, indicating shaky legs, was what had Chris silently sliding to his feet. It was good, but it obviously wasn’t enough, and that just wouldn’t do. Peter was almost mindless now, humping against the cue like the animal he was, everything about him howling need and want. But if he planned on coming any time soon, he would need more than the cue. Peter was a damn good slut, but he wasn’t trained to come on command—quite yet, at least—and the cue wasn’t going to offer any more friction than it already was.

Moving silently, using care in each step, Chris made his way over to the writhing man, the crowd parting for him. Peter didn’t seem to notice him and Chris wondered how desperate he truly was that his senses had dulled so much. He was a damn good hunter, but Peter could usually hear him coming from miles away.

Poor pup really was strung out.

“Enough now. Come—we don’t have all night.”

Chris didn’t really count on his words being enough to shove the man over the edge, but he had still hoped. The desperate _whine_ that Peter let out as he rolled his eyes up towards Chris told him it wasn’t going to work, that he needed more than that to come, and that Chris was going to have to help after all.

“Give me the cue.” He said, keeping his voice soft, not wanting to jerk Peter out of the state he’d worked himself into.

It took a few moments before the command seemed to sink into Peter’s brain, no doubt having to pierce through the headspace before being recognized, and Peter unhinged his jaw, pulling his teeth from the wood. Chris could tell he didn’t want to give it up, the emotion evident in his movements and the slight pout on his lips, but he handed it over nonetheless with nothing so much as a whine. The action made Chris smile, a nonverbal praise that went along with the hand Chris cupped around Peter’s jaw.

“Good pup.” He murmured, rubbing one thumb along Peter’s cheekbone, fingers moving gently against the rough scratch of his stubble.

The praise did its job, Peter’s eyes slamming shut as he let out a needy whine, pushing into Chris’ hand. The background, the people, faded into nothing at the action and Chris was careful to keep himself grounded despite his urge to give in to the buzz at the back of his brain. A sub in subspace while in public was one thing, but their Dom slipping into Domspace was something different entirely, and not something Chris was willing to do.

“Up on the table.” Chris commanded, watching Peter easily obey and letting a flood of warmth spread through him.

His pup was so good, so well behaved. And he was Chris’. If anyone else had ordered it, Peter would have snapped and snarled, a feral animal barely contained in human skin. He wasn’t listening to any of the other rough words the others were muttering, not allowing them to change his actions, but he was obeying Chris.

That sort of power was a heady rush that couldn’t be obtained anywhere else.

Chris placed the cue off to the side, not really paying attention to where, before turning back to his pup. Peter had splayed himself on the table in the most delicious way, knees open, ass up, head low to bare his neck to the people watching. He stiffened when Chris started opening his pants, but Chris kept his movements smooth, like he had every right to be doing what he was doing, and Peter must have realized who he was quickly. The fight leaked out of him, his body curving forwards until his elbows were braced on the table, submitting completely to Chris’ actions.

The shudders running up and down Peter’s spine gave Chris slight pause as he stroked at the twitching and leaking cock trapped beneath Peter’s underwear, worrying him slightly. Physical submission wasn’t always mental submission and there was a vast difference between enthusiastic consent and consent because the other party was unable to say no.

“You alright?”

There was a momentary pause, the only indication Peter had even heard him the slight stiffening of his shoulders, but soon enough a breathy, “yeah” emerged from where Peter had buried his head in his arms and brought a smile to Chris’ face.

“Good pup.” He praised softly, backing the praise with one more gentle stroke to Peter’s dripping cock, rubbing the material across the sensitive length, before raising his voice, putting on a show.

“I’ll leave you cock inside. Wouldn’t want you ruining this fine pool table with your cum, eh, whore?”

The words had their intended effect, Peter whining and arching, fucking the air with little abortive thrusts, no doubt trying to gain any little amount of friction against his leaking cock.

“Get on with it.” Peter snarled out, the indignation in his voice despite the neediness of his movements making a laugh bubble up from Chris’ chest.

Chris could see the sudden tension from where his laugh enraged Peter, emotions no doubt moving fluidly through the man due to how deep into subspace he was, but he reached out and yanked the band of his underwear down, cutting that off at the start before he had to punish him for it. He hooked the band below the firm globes of his ass before palming the flesh and pulling it apart, hearing the murmur of approval from behind him as the plug was exposed to the room.

“Stay still.” He snapped, voice rough with disuse and lust, when Peter’s desperate movements distracted Chris from his actions.

As slick and open as he was, Peter’s movements could cause Chris to accidentally injure him, and while he would heal, hurting a sub accidentally this deep in subspace was something Chris swore he would prevent at all costs.

“Easy for you to say…you’re not the one with a plug the size of…hnngh!” Chris cut off Peter’s snark easily, grabbing the base of the plug and yanking it out, exposing his stretched and slick hole to their audience.

The murmur from behind him—“Holy shit... look at that hole. It’s dripping.”—barely registered as Chris fucked the plug back into him, stretching Peter around its girth once more. The noises the plug made as Chris fucked it in and out of Peter were positively _filthy_ , loud and wet in the silence that had overtaken the bar. He kept at it until he saw Peter digging his nails into the table, momentary concern overtaking his want to keep going. Peter being on display as a slut for these people was one thing, him shifting in front of them was a complete other, and one Chris wanted to avoid at all costs.

“Behave.” Chris punctuated the command with a sharp slap to Peter’s ass, the red mark fading quickly but getting the point across nonetheless.

He slid his hand over, letting his fingers play with the stretched and wet rim of Peter’s hole, keeping them there to stretch him just a bit wider every time he shoved the plug back in. Peter was whining now, low murmurs of need every time Chris fucked back into him with the toy. He allowed himself to listen to the people around him as Peter started rocking backwards, desperation making his movements sloppy.

“Slut got a fucking amazing ass.”

“Has to be such a feast to eat him out.”

“Look at his face. Got the perfect mouth to suck cock, I tell ya.”

Chris’ name was a low chant falling from Peter’s lips as he worked him higher and higher, movements getting sloppier as he shoved him towards the edge. It seemed to plateau suddenly, Peter straining towards something he couldn’t reach, and Chris was loathe to break his concentration by speaking. Instead he bent over, brushing his lips against Peter’s lower back and letting his stubble scrape just a bit against the sensitive skin.

The effect was instantaneous, Peter _screaming_ as he clenched around the plug and Chris’ fingers, body twitching wildly in orgasm. Afterwards he slumped, a puppet with its string abruptly severed, and Chris was gentle as he eased the plug back in and righted his clothing. The gentleness continued as he helped Peter off the table, staying in constant contact with him as he led him back outside admist the approving murmurs of the crowd. Seeing Peter as a wanton slut was fine, Chris could share that with people, but this private time after orgasm—the time meant to ease a sub out of their headspace—was something not to be shared with strangers.

If a small part of Chris wanted the intimacy all for himself for selfish reasons well….that was for him to know and him alone.

Peter nuzzling at his neck was a small distraction but Chris didn’t let it affect him as he put him back into the car, securing him in and striding around the front, not wanting to leave Peter alone for any extended period of time in his exhausted state.

“Chris, I—“ Chris cut the slurred voice off with a hand on Peter’s leg, finger digging in just a bit, Chris’ hard cock—and fuck, he’d been hard for a while now—brushing painfully against his jeans at the way he had to twist to touch him.

“I’m gonna take you home and fuck you until you can’t walk for three days. Looked fucking amazing out there... letting me show you to all those men. Show them what they could not have. Because you’re mine.”

Peter’s head fell back on a moan and Chris grinned at the easy submission. Sometimes words went further than actions, though he would back up his words with those too, the second they closed the front door behind them. Imprint his ownership into Peter’s flesh, into his very soul, and remind him why, no matter how much they argued, Chris would always be the one for him.

“Gonna kill me one day.” Peter murmured disjointedly, probably not even aware he’d said anything, and it made Chris laugh as he pulled out and started the journey home.

He’d never kill Peter, no matter what he’d done. Collar and tame, perhaps, but never kill. Chris learned the value early of keeping the toys he loved in good condition, to make them last longer than they should have, and this toy in particular?

It was definitely one to keep around for a very long time.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We sincerely hope you enjoyed it! ... We surely did... nyahahahaha
> 
> If you wanna find us, and join in on plotting for more diabolically hot fics, you can find us at [MoMoMomma](http://momomomma2.tumblr.com/) and [Cyberratting](http://cyberratting.tumblr.com/)


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